Travis's New Look: No More Heroines
by ShinnokRaiden99
Summary: After becoming the number 1 ranked assassin, Travis finds himself challenged by a new group of killers. However, he quickly finds their methods to be a little... unorthodox.


"MY SPLEEN!"

The thug's cry echoed through the warehouse as Travis's beam katana came down, slicing through the goon like a warm knife through butter. The infamous assassin glanced around, scowling at the sight and smell of ash now filling the room.

"Fuckers..." he cursed under his breath as he moved through to the next room. It had been one year since he had successfully conquered the United Assassin's Association; Death Metal, Doctor Peace, Destroyman, Harvey Volodarskii, Bad Girl... all of them fell to his weapon, and he had achieved the title of number one he had wanted for so long. After some... incidents afterward, though, he had hoped he could finally relax and maybe find himself. No such luck, obviously; just that morning he had received a letter. Apparently there was another faction of killers; ones that had been kicked out of the UAA for whatever reason, and now they wanted to challenge him. No rest for the wicked, Travis supposed.

The otaku placed his hand on the doorknob, frowning when he turned it and the door refused to open. Sighing, he leaned back and slammed his foot against it, the wood splintering as the door swung open. He stormed through the door, his face twisted into an irritated sneer. As intended, fighting all those random mooks had gotten his blood boiling, and now he was ready for a real fight.

"My my," A feminine voice spoke, catching Travis's attention. He craned his neck in the direction of the voice, seeing a feminine figure sitting at a vanity table, a powderpuff in one hand as its owner applied her makeup. Taking a quick glance around, Travis noticed he was in some sort of run-down dressing room; tables with lighted mirrors lined the walls, various cosmetics and hair products scattered over their surfaces, while various racks of clothing were scattered haphazardly between tattered and torn tailors dummies. "Such a temper." The woman at the table spoke once more, regaining Travis's attention.

"You'll be Miss Vivien then." Travis grumbled through clenched teeth, the grip on his beam katana tightening. The woman let out a soft giggle as she stood, revealing herself to Travis; only a few inches shorter than he was, she was clad in a floor-length gown, the skirt of which ballooned out from her hips. Said hips were lined with jet black roses, more of which decorated her chest. The wrist length sleeves were sheer, her arms visible through them as they led down to her gloved hands, in which she clutched a parasol. Her chestnut-coloured hair was curled down to her shoulders, with a wide-brimmed hat on her head decorated with more dark roses and held in place with a ribbon. Another ribbon was tied in a bow just above her backside. The whole ensemble was a crisp, flawless white... flawless that is, aside from the large blood-stain splattered over her right side.

"I am," she spoke in that irritatingly soft voice, a Southern drawl sifting past her smiling lips. "And you must be Mister Touchdown."

"Travis, thanks," he replied curtly. "So, shall we?" he asked with a sarcastic bow.

"Oh my..." Vivien turned her head slightly, one hand near her mouth in a coy-yet-demure pose. "I never thought you'd be so... eager."

Travis's face pulled itself into another frown. "Well, ma'am, you DID pull me into this on short notice. To be honest, I want to get this over with and just go home."

"Is that so?" she asked, leering at him out of the corner of her eyes, that gentle smile never leaving her face. "That's not exactly very... gentlemanly."

Travis felt his teeth grinding together as he readied his beam katana. "Frankly, my dear? I don't give a damn."

"That's a shame..." she spoke, opening her umbrella and lowering over her face... only to lunge forward, the tell-tale glow of a beam blade catching Travis's attention. He raised his weapon to his face, the laser blades colliding and letting out a flash with a loud crackle. His eyes glanced at Miss Vivien's hands; in one hand was the main body of the parasol, while in the other was the handle, a long thin metal spike extending from it with light green energy coiling around its length, almost resembling a drill.

"A beam rapier, eh?" Travis muttered. He pushed against the woman's weapon, forcing her back as he swung his katana at her. She blocked with her own, another crackle of energy filling the room. Travis didn't let up, throwing blow after blow the Southern belle's way, but every one was blocked. A sudden parry forced him open, but instead of thrusting like he would expect, she raised her parasol once more. He raised any eyebrow in confusion until he caught a subtle swish of her skirt out the corner of his eye. He instantly ducked, just in time as the beam rapier's blade swung over his head.

"Yikes...!" the otaku assassin scowled as he backed away, one hand flying to his scalp to make sure everything was still attached. As he did, he kept his eyes on Miss Vivien. "Can't say I expected an elegant bitch like you to fight dirty!"

"Dirty?" she asked idly, twirling her rapier in her hand. "Mister Touchdown, haven't you learned anything working for the UAA? In a fight to the death... there's no such thing as dirty." she smirked, just as his hands brushed against one of her black roses tucked behind his ear...

In an instant, Travis found his entire body going rigid, standing stock still as he dropped his katana to the ground. His eyes went wide behind his shades as he struggled to move, but his arms remained firmly by his side as his legs pressed together, standing to attention. "Wh...mrrph..." he grumbled, unable to even move his lips.

"There, now THAT's much better," She nodded, her elegant accent disappearing, replaced by the kind of rough dialect one might hear on the streets of New York. "Was gettin' tired of you running that trap of your's."

"Mrg... brrf..." Travis mumbled in response, making Miss Vivien roll her eyes.

"Quit frontin', kid. Once my roses are on you, that's it. You're mine now," she said with a smirk. She raised her beam rapier, and with a series of precise slashes, Travis found himself buck naked in front of her. He let out the closest thing he could to a growl as she picked up the picture from the front of his PWLBJ t-shirt, showing the three heroines in a dynamic pose.

"What's this? Oh gawd, you're wunna them weabs, are ya?" she asked with a derisive laugh. Travis fumed and glared at her despite his inability to move. Something that didn't escape Vivien's attention.

"What? Whatcha grillin' me for, boy?" she asked with a scowl, before it slowly shifted into another smirk. "Oh... I think I know JUST what to do with you..." she giggled and sheathed her weapon.

Sylvia sighed in irritation as she leaned forward in her chair, her chin resting on her hand as she glanced around at all the degenerates. After the whole UAA con she pulled, she never thought that she'd find herself back in Santa Destroy. And certainly not sitting in a front row seat at one of these dumb anime conventions shows. Only reason she was here was because of the anonymous ticket she'd received, promising her an all expenses trip down to this part of America in exchange for attending this. Knowing that anime geek, this was probably some sort of attempt by Travis to get back at her for the UAA fiasco. Of course, she was many things but she was not a coward; she was not going to turn down this trip just because of that otaku. She just had to remain on-guard...

Her train of thought was broken by the lights dimming. She sat up, crossing one leg over the other as she tried to give an air of indifferent relaxation, though mentally making sure the knife in her purse was in the ideal spot for a quick extraction. She looked towards the stage as cute, peppy music with Japanese lyrics she didn't understand began to play.

The spotlight shone down on a figure on-stage, and Sylvia found herself balking at the sight. A grown man stood there, dressed from head to toe as some sort of magical anime girl.

His hair was lengthened and tied up into a pair of large, poofy pigtails, dyed a ridiculous bubblegum pink. His outfit consisted of a short, revealing minidress, the body a white colour with hot pink lining. The skirt reached mid-thigh and extended out past his hips in triangular segments, almost making it resemble a bizarre flower. From their it clung to the man's pecs and flat chest, the sleeves disconnected and forming little more than a pink band around his upper arm, exposing his shoulders. Long white gloves clung to his arms from the elbow down, lined in pink. On his legs were pink and white stripped thigh-highs, reached down to the pink stiletto-heeled knee-high boots.

Sylvia did her best not to let her utter bewilderment shine through her stoic facial expression. She didn't understand cosplay; why these weirdos would dress up as fictional characters for these events was beyond her, especially a grown man like this dressing as a pre-teen girl.

The man's face was stretched in a wide, almost forced smile as he opened his mouth and began to sing.

"Lady de hajimaru koi moyou,  
ryoukou na wezaanyuuzu choudai..."

As the man began to dance on stage, swaying his hips and wiggling in stereotypically "kawaii" motions, Sylvia raised an eyebrow again at that voice. She knew that voice. And now that she had noticed it, his makeup-free face was definitely...

"Travis!?" she gasped, raising one hand to her mouth in shock at the sight; the number one assassin in the country now done up like the most moe-of-moe anime girls, shaking his skirt clad butt and exposing his striped panties for a bunch of neckbearded basement-dwellers. Her eyes went wide, before she nearly collapsed in a fit of laughter.

"Ho-ra-ne mou iccho! Kimi ni gyutto happitaimu tsunageyou,  
'Mou isshou, issho da ne,'  
Omoi omosugichau?"

Travis's face burned as pink as his outfit, but the rose carefully hidden in his pink hair refused to let him stop smiling, singing or dancing as he hopped across the stage on his high heeled boots, his tiny skirt swishing and exposing his underwear at almost every opportunity. Every cute and adorable motion he had ever loved and adored in his shows, he was now performing. He couldn't stop himself winking, flipping his pigtails, making heart motions with his hands or any other humiliating gestures.

"Sa-ra-ni mou iccho! Egao zutto ippai ni mitashichae,  
Itsudatte honki desho,  
Seishun mankai sakaseyou!"

He inwardly cringed as he saw all the other con-goers watching, some cheering and applauding, some laughing and shouting insults. And right in the front row was Sylvia, the woman who started this whole mess, the one who got him involved in the UAA in the first place... doubled over in laughter. As he was forced to smile and perform.

He gulped and peered out of the corner of his eye as much as he could, and he saw Miss Vivien watching from off-stage, a playful smirk on her face as he performed. He swallowed. What did she have planned after this...?

TRAVIS'S NEW LOOK: NO MORE HEROINES - END 


End file.
